


Typical Story

by GameMaster



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, M/M, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Physical Abuse, Pining, Secret Crush, all the good stuff yk, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GameMaster/pseuds/GameMaster
Summary: When Dream starts a rock band with all of his closest friends, he doesn't expect much to come from it, let alone two relationships, a broken heart, a murder, and an internal conflict that may never be resolved. It may be too much, but it is, after all, a typical story.--Dream turned away from the window to find George lying against his shoulder, eyes half open, breathing softly. His body immediately went into panic mode as he tried to stay as still as possible, scared what he might disrupt if he moved.“Dream?” George said quietly. Dream swore he could hear the alarms going off in his head, telling him that they were too sober to be this close.“Y-yeah?” He stammered, hesitantly looking down at George through slightly cloudy vision. His nose and cheeks were pink from waiting on the street, thick eyelashes fluttering with fatigue. George let loose a long sigh and relaxed into Dream.“I can’t get you out of my head.”--inspired by the song 'Typical Story' by Hobo Johnson
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Sapnap, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 46
Kudos: 106





	1. What Happens in the Green Room Stays in the Green Room

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a fic with multiple chapters as well as multiple ships! I've been listening to typical story on repeat for a week and I thought it was just too perfect for a band au.   
> Its length will probably depend on the interest shown so if you really love it and want it to continue, show the story some love. Any critiques are, of course, completely welcome.  
> If there's anything you really want to see in the story whether it's a specific scene or character, drop it in the comments. I'll be sure to take it into account.
> 
> Please enjoy :]
> 
> TW // This story does contain themes of violence, implied depression, alcoholism, underage drinking, as well as other potentially triggering subjects. Read at your own risk.

The heat from the spotlights seemed to stick to Dream’s skin, anxiety rippling through his being as the event coordinator finished introducing them. No matter how many times he performed, he could never get over the jitters. His hands clutched his drumsticks, slick with palm sweat.

“Welcome to The Court, the Dream Team!” 

The lights pulled up to the stage and the tension between the band steadied as Karl started strumming. George joined in, followed by Dream doing his best to focus on the drum set in front of him and not the crowd watching his every move. 

At last Quackity removed the mic from its stand and began to sing. His singing was a lot courser than his speaking voice but that was expected for a rock singer.   


Sometimes right before a show Dream would ask himself why he even started a rock band because his stage fright was awful. The role of drummer offered him a bit of cover but he had found other things to focus on to keep him from freaking out.

_ Sure...other things, _ he thought to himself, grinning as his sight slid to George in front of him. He managed to make his simple t-shirt and jeans look like something you’d see on a runway with lots of rich people along the sidelines. The way the short sleeves sheathed the soft muscles of his arms as he strummed his guitar furiously. The way his sweat soaked through his shirt, the lines of his back standing out through the damp fabric. The way his black jeans cupped his perfect ass-

Dream’s train of thought was cut off by the song ending. George turned to give him a smirk and Dream gave a nervous smile in response. Sometimes Dream got nervous that George could actually read his mind whenever he was thinking about him.

_ No, surely if he knew he would say something. Wouldn’t he? _

The two had been in some weird game of chicken ever since their band, the Dream Team, had started getting more successful a few months prior. At this point Dream had accepted that either George was not interested, happy to keep him on the hook, or most likely, was just so incredibly oblivious that he hadn’t even noticed when Dream crossed the line between joking and flirting.

The rest of the show was a blur. Between George and the blinding stage lights, Dream was able to survive the set. And thank god he did because nothing felt better than the cheering at the end. The adrenaline began to fade as the four made their way backstage to find Sapnap waiting for them, immediately diving into a hug with Karl.

“That was so cool!” He said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his boyfriend. “You’re so sweaty though. No more hugs until you dry off.”

“What the honk?” Karl said feigning disappointment. “If you can’t even hug me when I’m sweaty how are we supposed to make this relationship work?” Karl immediately began chasing Sapnap around the backstage area with open arms as Sapnap dodged and weaved trying to avoid him.

Dream felt a hand in his hair and turned to see a very cute, very disheveled George further messing up his damp blond hair. Dream grabbed both of George’s hands in one of his and ruffled his hair furiously.

“Hey, hey! Stop-” George said giggling and trying to escape Dream’s grip. Dream chuckled and let him go, earning a huff from Quackity who had just finished a hushed conversation with the event manager.

“Can you four please get a room?” Quackity begged. He was getting awfully tired of being the third and fifth wheel of the group. 

“All four of us together?” Karl asked, coming back with his arm wrapped around Sapnap. “That’s pretty freaky Q, I don’t know about that.”

“At that point you might as well join,” Dream chuckled and Quackity shot them both an over dramatic look of disgust.

“How  _ dare  _ you try to take advantage of me,” The 19 year old squeaked. “I’m calling so many police.” Sapnap batted at the back of Quackity’s head, trying to grab at his beanie. “I’m being attacked!” Quackity ran away tugging his beanie down over his eyes and promptly slamming into a wall.

The other four laughed as Quackity stumbled to his feet, a crazy grin on his face. Dream could tell everyone was riding the high of the performance. He turned to Karl.

“Is the green room ready? I was hoping to have a few drinks before Quackity finds some way to kill himself.” Obviously Quackity wasn’t his real name, it was a nickname that Dream and Sapnap had given him a while back. The three of them had started the band, with Sapnap eventually working on the more technical side, arranging events and whatnot. George and Karl had joined a bit more recently, filling in for Sapnap.

Karl checked his watch and shrugged. 

“I mean they said it would be ready about now but when are these places ever on time?” He said earnestly. “We could start heading over but I can’t promise the drinks will be there yet.” Dream leaned his elbow on George’s head which he could do surprisingly easily because of the height difference. Quackity was even shorter than George, but Dream only ever leaned on the latter. His eyes were bit and his dark brown hair was beautifully tousled.

“Works for me,” George said, trying to push Dream off. “I wanna get this idiot wasted so he’ll leave me alone.” Dream raised a brow.

“Trying to get me drunk, George?” The blond said in a suggestive tone. “Well, you did buy the drinks so I guess I’m happy to be yours for the night.” George’s face went pink and his gaze quickly shifted to the floor.

“That’s not what I meant,” He stammered, stepping away from Dream and leading the way to the green room. Dream tried not to let his disappointment show. Sometimes he worried that he might be going too far and making George uncomfortable. On the other hand, he looked so pretty when he blushed.

All five of them made their way to the green room, Karl and Sapnap still joined at the hip, whispering to each other and giggling. Dream noticed the sour expression on Quackity’s face and started to wonder if he wasn’t 100% joking when he had complained earlier. He knew Quackity had had a crush on Sapnap a long while back but he assumed he had gotten over it because he seemed over the moon when Sapnap started dating Karl. But Dream had never been able to read Quackity as well as he read everyone else.

Dream gave Quackity a little nudge and cracked a joke trying to distract him. If he couldn’t fix it, at the very least he could try to cheer the boy up. Quackity chuckled but it was clearly forced.

They entered the green room to find George carrying a few packs of beer and what appeared to be straight vodka. He set down the drinks on a low table and waved excitedly, making Dream’s heart melt.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Karl finally detached himself from Sapnap. “Who are our designated drivers?”

“Uh…I can take two of you. My car doesn’t have room for everyone,” Quackity said, picking up the lounge’s non-alcoholic menu. The perk of playing for bars was free drinks afterward. “George? Can you take Dream?” Dream noticed the subtle attempt at getting them alone together and gave Quackity an appreciative look, especially because that meant he would have to spend the rest of the night with Sapnap and Karl being all...mushy.

“I still don’t have a car,” George whined. “Plus, I drove last time. Can someone drive both of us?” Dream saw his chance and took it.

“I can splurge on an uber for the two of us,” Dream said quickly. “It’s really no problem for me.” George gave him a strange look.

“If you insist,” he replied, picking up a drink. 

. . .

Dream loved tipsy George. George was usually pretty reserved but after a few drinks he really let loose and those walls he stubbornly kept up crumbled. The alcohol softened his features, a sort of dazed rosiness in his cheeks, and it drove Dream crazy. 

With a flushed face and warm hands, George pulled Dream up from the couch and tried to get him to dance. Dream grumbled but George grabbed at his shirt a little and suddenly Dream couldn’t refuse him. George jumped a little excitedly and Dream couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

_ Such a pretty boy. _

Dream watched George move to the music, some 70s stuff Quackity had put on. Speaking of Quackity, Dream could see him out of the corner of his eye, sulking in the corner bitterly drinking a virgin mojito. 

Sure enough he was glaring at Sapnap who was all tangled in Karl’s arms on the couch. It briefly occurred to Dream that he should say something about it but he was more buzzed than he’d like to admit and his favorite person in the world was dancing in front of him.

George’s hair was ruffled, the loose curls tangled haphazardly. His voice was bright and rich, like a perfectly tuned instrument and Dream wanted to wade into that music and let it fill his lungs. 

George stumbled into Dream’s chest, leaving him giggling hysterically. Dream couldn’t hold himself back so he grabbed George and swug him around as Tiny Dancer played in the background.

He wanted the moment to last so long, so much longer than it ever could. If only his eyes were a camera so he could capture in and frame it on his wall, he’d never feel sad again. Between the joy and the wooziness from the drinks he’d had, it felt like...a dream.

They stopped spinning and only then did Dream notice just how close they were. George’s lovely hazel eyes were looking directly into his, close enough to count the freckles that dappled Dream’s cheeks. A shiver went through Dream, something in-between bliss and dread that left him feeling as if there were flames licking at his skin.

At the last moment, George pulled away and Dream let loose a desperate sigh.

_ Always the tease. _

Part of Dream was bitter because all he wanted to do was kiss this god damn rosy cheeked dazzling boy, but he could also appreciate the chase. He just hoped it would end soon because frankly he was getting sore.

In the corner, Quackity finished his mocktail and got up to try and pull Sapnap and Karl apart.

“Okay, lovebirds. As cute as it is to watch all my friends go loco for each other, it does get tiring.” He pulled Sapnap up and dusted him off. If George was drunk, Sapnap looked absolutely plastered, His eyes were bleary and it looked like Quackity was half holding him up. Karl didn’t look much better. Dream noticed that the bottle of vodka was completely empty.

Quackity tried to push the two out of the green room, leaving both of them leaning against the wall before turning back to Dream and George.

“You sure you’re okay with this,” Dream asked quietly. Quackity looked annoyed but unsurprised that Dream had noticed his mood.

“Yeah, whatever.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m doing it for you man,” Quackity said nodding towards George. “But you owe me so big for this.” 

Dream’s face went red and he nodded.

“Got it,” The blonde said. Quackity nodded tiredly and patted Dream absently on the shoulder.

“Rail him for me, mate,” Quackity said, mocking George’s accent. Dream tried to contain a wheeze and failed miserably, partially due to alcohol induced delirium. He laughed until two arms wrapped around him from the back.

“What’s so funny?” George muttered, his breath warm against Dream’s back. Chills rolled across Dream’s skin and he silently hoped that George didn’t notice the hairs on his neck standing up.

“Oh, nothing,” Dream replied giddily, trying to turn to see George’s face only to be frozen by those exquisite hazel eyes. He could feel his heart pounding as George let him go and Dream turned to face the boy. “Let’s get this place cleaned up and I can call an uber.”

. . .

Oh, how Dream wished he had a jacket that he could give to George to protect him from the brisk cold of the street in a lovely romantic gesture. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a jacket and so they were both cold in a very not romantic way.

The uber was a little late to show up but Dream had given some special instructions, just in case.

Finally, a black mini van pulled up on the curb and Dream was sure to hold the door open for George as he shuffled in. Sure enough, as Dream had quietly requested, a dark divider was set up between the front and back seats. George looked at him for an explanation and Dream shrugged as if he didn’t know.

Once they were settled in their seats, the driver’s voice came through a speaker and Dream gave his address, promising George he’d walk him home from there. As the car started rumbling down the road, the two boys sat in a comfortable silence, eventually interrupted by a yawn from George and a warm, heavy feeling on Dream’s arm.

Dream turned away from the window to find George lying against his shoulder, eyes half open, breathing softly. His body immediately went into panic mode as he tried to stay as still as possible, scared what he might disrupt if he moved.

“Dream?” George said quietly. Dream swore he could hear the alarms going off in his head, telling him that they were too sober to be this close.

“Y-yeah?” He stammered, hesitantly looking down at George through slightly cloudy vision. His nose and cheeks were pink from waiting on the street, thick eyelashes fluttering with fatigue. George let loose a long sigh and relaxed into Dream.

“I can’t get you out of my head.”


	2. Pretty Boys and Strong Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little heated...
> 
> \---
> 
> Based on Typical Story by Hobo Johnson
> 
> \---
> 
> Songs to fit the vibe of the chapter:  
> -Why'd you Only Ever Call Me When You're High by Arctic Monkeys  
> -Lady in the Wall by Danny Knutelsky  
> -High Enough by K.Flay  
> -Pretty Boy by The Neighborhood

“I can’t get you out of my head.”

Dream’s breath hitched, mind racing at the implications. That couldn’t possibly be intended platonically. He tried to summon up a response but his alcohol buzz made it like trying to walk through maple syrup.

“You’re...you’re drunk, George,” Dream said, shaking his head, trying to clear the haze. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” George sighed.

“I’m not so in my cups that I can’t tell you how your eyes and freckles and lips destroy every second of my existence,” He replied, his tone edged with snarkiness. Dream stared at him, mouth agape. “I want your spare key, I want to make you breakfast, I want photos of me on your wall.”

Dream was, for once, at a loss for words. It’s not like it was sudden, this had been building for months, but still it hit him like a sack of bricks. At last he managed to string some words together.

“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?” Dream said maintaining soft eye contact with George. He wanted nothing more than to hold him close and never let go, but there were things to sort out.

“I guess I have,” George acknowledged, sitting up. Dream tried to hide his disappointment to not have George leaning on him anymore, but his distress was short-lived. “I have…” George continued. “But not nearly as much as I’ve thought about this.”

George scooted closer and flipped himself so he was straddling Dream’s lap. The sudden weight pushed Dream into his seat and he breathed heavily as George dragged a finger along his jawline, before tugging at his lip.

“You sure you aren’t just plastered?” Dream muttered hazily, his focus lost on George’s beautiful feature so close to his own. George took a slow breath.

“Never been more sure,” He said, and leaned in to lock lips, but Dream was too impatient. Having been given the green-light, Dream placed his hands on George’s thighs and pulled him in, their torsos bumping into each other. George closed the gap and their lips met.

It was messy, careless even, and it was the best kiss either of them had ever had. Dream’s hands slid up George’s back, grabbing greedy handfuls of his hair. George took Dream’s hands and pulled them down so they were resting on his backside. Dream’s eyes fluttered open for a moment and he chuckled into the kiss, squeezing George’s ass.

Dream couldn’t get enough. After months of teasing, the release was consuming him from the inside out. He was still a bit foggy but one thing was clear to him: he wanted to  _ drink _ George, wanted to drain him of everything he could.

George nipped at Dream’s bottom lip and slid his tongue over his top lip, a silent question. The answer was yes of course, and George’s tongue slipped into Dream’s mouth.

The car hit a speed-bump and Dream let out a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a moan but George was quick to stifle it with his lips. Dream pulled away a bit and George whined but he moved down to place small kisses on his jaw and cheek, working towards his neck. George’s breath hitched and he ground into Dream’s lap.

Unfortunately, at that moment the uber pulled to the side of the road and parked. Dream pulled away, ignoring George’s sounds of protest. He steadied George with a hand on his chest.

“Don’t worry, I sure as hell don’t want to stop either but we can’t just sit in this car,” He explained. George looked his face up and down before sighing and backing up enough for Dream to get out.

George waited on the doorstep while Dream paid and thanked (and profusely apologized to) the uber driver who seemed shockingly indifferent.

Dream met George in front of the door and placed his hands at George’s side.

“I would say we should take this to your place, but we’re already here,” George said, giving Dream a sultry look. Dream wasted no time unlocking the door and pulling George in by his collar.

Dream pushed his gorgeous boy up against the wall, bracing him with an arm on each side. George trailed a hand up Dream’s chest making him shiver with anticipation.

“Play later?” The blond said, trying to hold himself back from simply picking George up, going up the stairs, and dropping him on the bed.

“Play later,” George agreed breathlessly. Dream hastily spun George so they were facing each other and pressed his back into the marble counter of his kitchen island. They started where they had left off in the cab, George’s hand creeping up under Dream’s shirt. Dream thought he was about to melt when he heard a familiar purr.

“Hi, Patches,” George said, looking over Dream’s shoulder, his voice laced with amusement as he spoke to Dream’s cat. “Funny seeing you here.” Dream gently hit his head against George’s chest.

“I have to feed her,” He said apologetically. “You know where the bedroom is upstairs, right?” George nodded and kissed his cheek softly before heading up to the loft, expression a hilarious mix of delight and frustration. 

Dream sighed and looked at Patches. She seemed to have no remorse for the moment she had just ruined. In fact, the small, brown cat seemed to be actively judging him, not only for being late, but for bringing someone home with him.

As he prepared Patches’ dinner, he talked to her softly as always, filling her in on the night.

“You know George, you’ve met him before,” He said, filling a plastic bowl with wet food. “And you’ve heard me talking about him for...months, so you know him well enough.” Patches acknowledged this with a purr.

“I think after today he might be around more often. Do you think you two can get along?” Dream placed the food bowl on the cold kitchen tile but Patches looked at him for a second before going to eat. It was either acceptance or irritation, either way he assumed she was impartial.

As Dream walked up the stairs, taking them two at a time, he finally had some time to process the last few hours. He was close to sober at this point but he still felt drunk on lust. Those minutes in the car...if there was an accident he would have died happy, just to have George so close to him, so affectionate with him.

He opened his bedroom door open to find George absolutely knocked out, tangled up in his covers. Dream had to stifle a laugh as he moved the duvet aside to take off George’s shoes and left him a glass of water. 

He looked so cute when he was sleeping, his face so calm that it looked angelic. Once he had managed to ensure George a better night’s sleep, he grabbed some extra blankets and pillows from the closet and turned to head back downstairs to sleep on the couch.

The door creaked when he opened it, causing George to stir a bit. Dream winced and tried to tiptoe out but George, half-asleep, mumbled something.

“Sweet dreams,” he said, barely above a whisper. Dream closed the door softly behind him and went back down the stairs, blankets in hand.

If Patches wasn’t annoyed at him for bringing George home, she was certainly upset when he nudged her to the edge of the couch to make room for him. At 6’3, the couch wasn’t nearly big enough to comfortably fit Dream but as long as George was cozy, he could make do.

With an irritated mew, Patches hopped off the couch and curled and in her cat bed, which she never slept in. She glared at Dream lazily before closing her eyes.

The clock on the living room wall read 1am, and frankly Dream was surprised it wasn’t later. The last few hours had felt like an eternity, his emotions had been thrown around like a goddamn football. It was overwhelming, but in a good way.

As fatigue began to nip at his consciousness, Dream couldn’t help but replay the night in his head. What had made it different from any other night they ended up going home together drunk? Had their collective willpower simply snapped under the pressure?

In the back of his weary brain, he knew there were other things to worry about. Clearly there was something going on between Karl, Sapnap, and Quackity but Dream wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to butt in on that. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem like it was going to end well, at least not without someone getting hurt.

It was hard to care when his head was clouded with so much affection, even love for George. A selfish part of him wished he didn’t have to deal with everyone else’s problems, so he could just enjoy what he had, but that’s not how friendships worked.

. . .

Much to his dismay, Dream ended up sleeping in, the clock showing 11am when he finally rolled off the couch to feed a loud, hungry Patches.

Between his weariness and the small bite of a hangover giving him a pulsing headache, the previous night had seemed like a very long, very confusing alcohol-induced hallucination. 

After feeding Patches, he dug through the kitchen cabinets looking for anything remotely edible that he could make into breakfast. That was romantic wasn’t it? Bringing George breakfast in bed.

Dream didn’t hear anything from the second floor but he knew that George slept in even more than he did, missing shows more than once because his alarm hadn’t gone off. 

He scrounged together some toaster waffles and fresh-cut oranges, and arranged them neatly on two plates. He also got a second cup of water in case George had finished the one he left on the nightstand.

Dream had been a waiter for a few months the summer after highschool so he didn’t have much trouble carrying the two plates and the glass up the stairs. When he got to the bedroom door he shifted so he could knock on the door.

“Room service,” He called cheerfully, awaiting some kind of answer. Strangely...there was only silence on the other side of the door. Maybe he was still asleep?

Dream nudged open the door just as he had the night before, but now the bed was empty, and newly made. George’s shoes no longer sat by the bed and the glass of water on the nightstand was untouched.

For a second Dream wondered if he had truly blacked out the night before and simply made up the events with George, but that wasn’t possible, was it? Dream searched the apartment for any sign that George had been there, and seemingly found nothing.

He went back to the room, checking under the bed for a sock, a hair, anything. When he got up he saw a small note stuck on the back off the door. It was a yellow sticky note and in George’s handwriting it read:

_ Sorry, I had to leave early. I had _

_ somewhere to be this morning,  _

_ thank you for taking care of me :] _

Dream did his best to stifle his anguish. After all they had done, all they had said, George couldn’t even say goodbye in person. He had to say it from a fucking sticky note?

Trudging down the stairs, still in his clothes from he night before, he quickly changed and returned to the dining room. The plates he had made for breakfast were still sitting there, apparently mocking his sadness. The waffles had gone cold.

Lowering himself on his couch, Dream found himself once again replaying the night before. He must have done something wrong, something that warranted this blatant disregard for his feelings.

Purring, Patches hopped up on the couch next to him and rubbed up against his leg. He massaged her head absently, waiting as if George would suddenly come back through the front door and fall into his arms again.

“You tried to warn me didn’t you?” Dream said quietly to Patches. “That he wasn’t any good? That I shouldn’t get attached?” Unfortunately, despite her infinite wisdom, Patches was still just a cat, and therefore could not answer any of the questions weaved through Dream’s mind.

He sighed, sinking back into the cough. As the seconds ticked by, Dream became increasingly more numb to the events of the morning. Patches stayed by his side, seemingly trying to comfort him.

“You know what my mom told me in high school?” Dream said, breaking the brittle silence. “She said ‘never waste your time on pretty boys and strong drinks’. I should have listened to her. She was smarter than I’ll ever be.”

A ways away, a very nervous George paced the floor of his apartment, the floorboards creaking under his feet. He knit his hands together, anxiously awaiting the angry phone call he was sure to receive from Dream.

He had lied. He had nowhere to be that morning. When he had woken up in Dream’s bed he panicked and left as quickly as possible, leaving no trace save a sticky note. He knew what a shitty move it was but in the moment it had seemed like the best way to avoid having the talk they would need to have about what they were and whatnot. Regardless, he was too stressed to think about it.

As long as he had paced in his bedroom, dreading that phone call, he also knew that it would never come. Dream was too nice, he would blame it on himself, and that made everything so much worse.

George was almost hoping Dream would just yell at him so the blame could be placed fairly on him. 

Despite his inebriated state, George remembered everything from the night before. The bitter taste of cocktails on Dream’s lips, his strong hands pulling him in, and especially how good it felt to finally act on his impulses. George wasn’t the type to do so, and even then, he had run the situation in his head a thousand times before attempting it. 

He couldn’t say he regretted it, but he wasn’t ready to put a label on anything, and straddling another guy in the back of an uber certainly implied a label.

It was bad. It was really, really bad. His phone dinged, startling him out of his stupor. It was a text from Sapnap to their group chat, announcing that there would be band practice tonight in the usual spot.

Band practice...tonight.

He would already have to face Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, hope you enjoyed! If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions just drop it in the comments, I try to reply to every single one. Chapter 3 will be going up sometime in the next week so please subscribe if you want to be updated :]


	3. Shower Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and George go out of their ways to avoid one another, but with a bond like theirs, they can only stay away for so long. On top of that, Quackity is struggling to keep himself in one piece as Karl tears his other half away.
> 
> \---
> 
> “I might just…” Dream started, breaking the silence. “I might just go home. I don’t think I can face him and pretend everything is okay.” He heard Quackity sigh on the other line.
> 
> “Of course, take care of yourself, man. I can hold down the fort.”
> 
> “Are you sure you’re okay with being there? I mean...with them?” Dream asked hesitantly. Quackity stiffened, watching Karl and Sapnap laugh from the next room over. Jealousy stung in his chest as the two hugged, Karl’s hands in Sapnap’s hair.
> 
> “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quackity said flatly. He couldn’t talk about it. Talking about it would mean that it was real, something tangible that he would actually eventually have to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this at midnight, I'm sorry

“Well, did you two finally sort your shit out?” Quackity asked over the phone. Dream was sitting in his parked car outside the studio where the band practiced. He couldn’t muster the strength to go in.

“Not exactly,” Dream sighed, running a hand through his hair. The day had been fuzzy, a mix of confusion and misery he was happy to be distracted from. He wasn’t sure he could face George already, he might do something he would regret.

“So what’s the situation?” Quackity’s voice was understanding but there was irritation there as well, probably because he had done so much to get the two of them together, only for it to end badly.

Dream recounted the night, step by step. First the street, then the uber, then the doorstep, then in his house. Quackity listened silently on the other side of the line, desperately trying to connect to dots for himself.

He didn’t sympathize much with George. Leaving after all that talk about wanting to have his spare key and shit? Kind of a dick move. 

Quackity was in the studio with Sapnap and Karl who were setting up speakers and tuning instruments for practice. He knew that Dream was parked outside, but there was also no sign of George. Did he plan to just ghost them?

“I’m really sorry man, that sucks.” Quackity muttered to Dream. His night had been awful, having to watch Karl and Sapnap all over each other felt like a cruel joke from the universe.

Quackity had had a crush on Sapnap since he met him in high school, when they were still going by Alex and Nick respectively. Quackity still had the journals that he had scrawled Sapnap’s name into with a red pen, hoping that Sapnap was doing the same. It was a stupid fascination he had used to distract himself from a shitty home life. He hadn’t even realized he still had any feelings for Sapnap until Karl walked into the picture.

Dream was still on the line, waiting in a comfortable silence. There was no need to speak to tell each other what they were thinking. The two had been friends long enough that they could read the situations well enough.

“I might just…” Dream started, breaking the silence. “I might just go home. I don’t think I can face him and pretend everything is okay.” He heard Quackity sigh on the other line.

“Of course, take care of yourself, man. I can hold down the fort.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with being there? I mean...with them?” Dream asked hesitantly. Quackity stiffened, watching Karl and Sapnap laugh from the next room over. Jealousy stung in his chest as the two hugged, Karl’s hands in Sapnap’s hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quackity said flatly. He couldn’t talk about it. Talking about it would mean that it was real, something tangible that he would actually eventually have to face. 

Dream was silent on the line.

“Whatever you say, Alex.” Quackity flinched in response to Dream’s use of his real name, but he understood the message. Dream knew he was lying.

“And, uh…” Quackity stammered, trying to keep his composure. “We do have a show tomorrow, so you gotta get your shit together before then. We can’t be missing our drummer boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” 

With that, Dream hung up and slammed his head against the steering wheel. It was so much worse than he expected. Quackity being annoyed about something and Quackity  _ being in denial. _ As if that wasn’t enough, he  _ had _ to see George tomorrow, and work with him. 

His head dropped into hands and he longed for the easy joy he had felt the day before. The rush of performing, dancing in the green room with George...everything else. When had it all come crashing down?

He pulled out of the studio parking lot and floored it back home. He didn’t need much, just a place to be alone, but even that seemed to be too much.

Quackity put down his phone and rubbed his eyes. After practically carrying Sapnap and Karl back to their apartment, he had crashed hard, binging the alcohol that his mom kept “hidden” in the cellar. It had been nice to be numb for a few hours but now he just had a massive headache on top of everything else.

Karl was finishing up tuning his bass guitar, with Sapnap watching lovingly from the side. It hurt, it hurt so much, but if Karl was what Sapnap needed to be happy, who was Quackity to get in his way. Karl looked up when he walked in.

“What’s up? Where are the other two?” He said cheerfully. Quackity had to push down his bitterness. It was hard to hate someone so goddamn nice.

“Uh, Dream’s MIA for the day and George is late as usual,” Quackity said, peeking around the corner to see if there was any sign of the brit.

The tension in the room could be cut with a butterknife, or any other kind of knife. Karl strummed absently and Sapnap's eyes seemed to be shooting back and forth between Karl and Quackity, possibly picking up the strained energy.

“Maybe I should go to medical school so I can figure out how to cure the horrible disease that makes George sleep twenty-three hours a day,” He cracked, and against his will, Quackity chuckled.

“At least today he has an excuse. Rough night and all.” Sapnap nodded, a grin creeping onto his face, a sure sign he was about to crack a joke.

“I’d be tired too if Dream railed me all night,” He said, choking back a laugh. Quackity immediately started cackling and Karl giggled uncontrollably. If anyone could clear the tension out of a room it was Sapnap. It was one of the qualities Quackity loved most about him, his ease around others.

“Speaking of which,” Quackity started, struggling to catch his breath. “I’ve been told that it didn’t go great last night so...like, don’t mention it.”

“Oh god, what did those nimrods do now?” Karl asked. They had all been secretly betting on when Dream and George would finally give into their pining, with close to two hundred dollars in the pot. “Does this mean I don’t win, because that’s impossible.”

“Win what?”

Sap, Karl, and Quackity all turned to see George entering the studio, guitar case in hand. They all looked at each other, daring one another to answer the question.

“Uh, we were betting on when you were going to show up,” Karl answered flatly. “I guess I do win. Q and Sappy both owe me ten dollars.” Sapnap went ahead and made a big show of pulling the bill out of his wallet and handing it to Karl, then they both turned to Quackity.

“I’m not giving you ten bucks!” He shrieked. Sap and Karl both gave him a very pointed look that read  _ ‘sell the bit’. _

He huffed and after a bit of digging around he gave Karl a ten. Karl proceeded to do a victory dance, only irritating Quackity further. George watched them silently, taking out his guitar and tuning it.

“I guess I’m on drums instead of Dream,” Sapnap huffed, grabbing some drumsticks from a bag.

“W-wait,” George said, putting down his guitar. “Dream isn’t coming?”

“No,” Quackity replied, trying not to sound too sore and failing miserably. “He wasn’t feeling great so he decided to take the day off, but he’ll be at the show tomorrow.” George’s hands shook slightly as he picked up his instrument again. 

_ Let him shake, _ Quackity thought to himself. If George couldn’t even stay for breakfast, he could at least feel a little guilty about it. He immediately scolded himself for the thought. George hadn’t gotten to tell his side of the story, let alone defend himself.

“You okay, Gogmeister?” He asked gently. George smirked at the use of his nickname and nodded quickly.

“Yes.” He displayed one of his cute little smiles that Quackity knew Dream would appreciate if he was here. “Hungover, but definitely okay.”

Everyone could tell that he was lying but they let him linger in peaceful denial.

. . .

For the tenth time that hour, Dream looked up at his phone resting across the room. He didn’t know what he was expected but he needed something, something to tear him out of this hellish pit.

Eventually, he gave up on doing any work and decided to take a shower, as if he could wash off the memory of George’s hands on him, in his hair and running down his face.

“Hey, Patches,” He said, grabbing a towel. She stared at him disapprovingly, as if she could tell how he was destroying himself from the inside out over some short, fluffy-haired, British boy. Dream dragged a hand down his face in anguish.

“Don’t you dare judge me.” They had a little standoff in the hallway, Patches’ tail curling absently. Ultimately, Dream scooped the small cat up in his arms and let her sit on his bed while he showered.

Turning the heat up to scalding, he peeled his clothes off, shivering in the cool bathroom. The water heated up quick and Dream gradually adjusted to the warm water running down his back and neck. 

He ran a hand through his hair, the warmth on his scalp making him sigh. He swore, every time he closed his eyes all he saw was that beautiful boy leaning over him, haphazardly straddling his lap.

Every heartbeat reminded him of the music and how they had danced last night in the greenroom, carefree and reckless as always but with a new kind of spark, the kind that starts as nothing more than a flicker and builds into a forest fire.

He had felt that fire, let it burn through his senses and he would do it all over again because as much as the flames stung, they also ignited something inside of him. Dream dreaded never being able to feel that wax melting away again.

Dream stepped out of the shower and swiped a hand across the steamy mirror. Staring into his own eyes, he tried to think rationally.

“He’s just a guy...and he can do whatever he wants.” It was meant to come out bold but his voice broke. “You don’t...you don’t need his affection to be happy with yourself. You were just fine yesterday, weren’t you?”

That was the question. Had he been fine before?

His thoughts were interrupted by Patches scratching at the bathroom door. Dream quickly finished towelling off and threw some clothes on, opening the door to find Patches waiting patiently.

“Dinnertime already?” Dream huffed, shuffling over to the kitchen. He couldn’t even look at his bed knowing that George had been tangled in those sheets that very morning. It took all his willpower not to drop down on the bed and throw a fit into the pillows.

“I’m an adult now, and adults don’t do that.” He finished the thought aloud. Patches mewed, possibly in disagreement but her focus was soon recaptured as Dream placed her food bowl on the cool kitchen tiles.

“I know this is your house and I’m just living in it...” Dream said, leaning on the counter. “...but you’re on my side about this right?” 

He wasn’t expecting much of an answer but Patches offered him a judgemental head tilt in response...and Dream could never argue with her.

. . .

George was so on edge driving to the performance the next day that he missed the turn to the club twice before finally making it correctly.

As he parked, he checked the time on his dashboard.

_ Early, thank god. _

Because now he had time to sit in his car and think about what he was meant to say. This wouldn’t be a repeat of rehearsal, whether he wanted to or not, Dream would have to be there onstage with him. Just picturing his face, with those brilliant green eyes and spray of freckles, made George’s heart stutter.

Surely he would be angry, George had pulled the ultimate betrayal. Quackity had certainly seemed to be pissed during practice although George wasn’t sure if it was because of him or because of Karl and Sapnap’s constant PDA’s.

“Get your shit together,” He muttered to himself. George couldn’t believe he was all worked up over some overgrown pissbaby. He giggled to himself at the thought.

Eventually, he summoned up some false courage and made it out of the car, guitar case in hand. The sun was just beginning to set and the apparently vintage-inspired lounge looked picturesque in the warm light.

He entered and was immediately greeted by an organizer that nearly dragged him to the backstage where Karl, Sapnap, and Quackity were already waiting.

George’s eyes scanned the small prep area, searching for a familiar tall floridian, finding nothing. He had to be here, Quackity would never let Dream miss a performance. Even a few months back when Dream lost his voice Big Q had been quick to remind him that he wasn’t the singer and would be just fine.

“He’ll be here,” Quackity said, as if reading George’s thoughts. George nodded sheepishly and took his guitar out of the case as the performance ahead of them finished. He remained on edge, waiting for the sound of Dream’s melodic voice to snap at him, but it didn’t come.

George lined up in the wings. With only a minute or two until the performance, he was now sure that Dream wasn’t coming. That is, until he saw the blur of blond hair out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey George,” Dream said flatly. George looked at him with wide eyes before attempting to spit out a blur of apologies. Dream just watched him quietly, emotions hidden below an invisible mask.

“Not now,” The blond said, only the tension in his voice showing his feelings. George had never heard it but that didn’t mean he couldn’t recognize it. Dream was angry. 

_ Angry at George. _

His hands went numb and he gripped his guitar loosely, trying to spin the chaos in his head into any kind of coherent thought, but nothing arose. He was blank.

At that incredibly unfortunate moment, the man on stage gave them their signal.

“And now, just for tonight, we have The Dream Team!” The crowd cheered and the four boys took their places on stage, George moving robotically.

With the spotlights in his eyes, the crowd was the absolute last thing on his mind. When the song started, he almost jumped. At his cue, he began strumming on his guitar.

_ Something’s wrong. _

It was too quiet, he could barely hear his own instrument. His ears were filled with the violent clash of Dream’s drums, far overpowering his quieted guitar.

George struggled to keep his calm as reality came crashing down on him. 

Dream was angry.

Dream was playing so loud.

_ Dream had unplugged his speaker. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's about midnight when I'm posting this and I am unbelievably exhausted so I apologize for any errors you might find. I did my best to proofread but I'm also on an absurd amount of sleep meds.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know it was kind of a lot of filler but the next few chapters get really exciting and I had some dynamics to set up before I get to the good stuff.
> 
> All in due time, darlings :]
> 
> (Also comments are majorly appreciated, I try to respond to every single one <3)


	4. Will you please reconsider?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one door closes another opens, but when one problem is solved, another will arise
> 
> \---
> 
> George slumped to the ground as hot tears ran down his flushed cheeks. It was quiet, the band had stopped playing inside. The set was ruined, all because of him.
> 
> Not because of him…
> 
> The door out to the alley and a familiar head of fluffy blond hair jogged out.
> 
> Because of Dream.
> 
> “George, what was that?” Dream asked, looking genuinely concerned. George didn’t care. He stood up and shoved Dream back. He only stumbled back a little, mostly with shock.
> 
> “You fucking asshole,” George spat through tears. He punched at Dream’s chest, crying out in frustration when the bay hardly moved. “I know you’re pissed but why do you have to be such a child?”
> 
> \---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read be aware that this chapter contains themes of alcohol abuse and implied physical violence (nothing graphically described) so please if you are uncomfortable with that, stop reading after Dream and George leave the performance venue!
> 
> Take care of yourselves darlings, I'll be adding to the tags <3

Drops of sweat made George shiver as they ran down his back. The problem with George’s speaker quickly became apparent to the rest of the band and Karl gave him quick panicked glances in between songs.

Despite the issue, George did his best to keep playing, which wasn’t nearly as difficult as stifling his anger. It bubbled deep inside him, only barely overpowering the shame.

_ How could he?  _

But George then realized, that’s probably exactly what Dream thought after George had left without saying anything. God, he was fucked. Even more so because he would have loved nothing more than to stay, but the goddamn anxiety had gotten the best of him.

The bash of the drums behind him made him flinch but he knew he couldn’t turn to glare at Dream. It would be too obvious, too noticeable.

Quackity was rocking a smug smile as he sang, clearly he already knew. Maybe he had even been a part of the plan.

The stage seemed to collapse in on him, swallowing him whole. Guilt and fury jarred his sense, his throat burning and the roaring of blood echoing through his ear. His breath shook and a lump formed in his throat. George was bordering on having a full-on panic attack.

The first song ended and in the break for applause, George dropped his guitar and ran off the stage. He followed the wings to a back door and pushed through it, finding himself in an empty alleyway, lit by the late-afternoon haze.

No matter how hard he tried, his breathing refused to steady. Out of frustration, he threw a generous punch at the alley wall. His knuckles came away stinging and probably bleeding but he didn’t care.

George slumped to the ground as hot tears ran down his flushed cheeks. It was quiet, the band had stopped playing inside. The set was ruined, all because of him.

_ Not because of him… _

The door out to the alley and a familiar head of fluffy blond hair jogged out.

_ Because of  _ **_Dream_ ** _. _

“George, what was that?” Dream asked, looking genuinely concerned. George didn’t care. He stood up and shoved Dream back. He only stumbled back a little, mostly with shock.

“You fucking asshole,” George spat through tears. He punched at Dream’s chest, crying out in frustration when the bay hardly moved. “I know you’re pissed but why do you have to be such a  _ child? _ ”

Dream flinched visibly at the word, eyes shooting around as if he was trying to put two and two together. How fucking dare he pretend like he didn’t just mess up the performance for petty, selfish reasons.

George gave Dream’s shin a swift kick and finally he reacted, grunting in pain. When Dream looked up again, his eyes burned.

Dream grabbed George’s shoulders and pushed him against the wall, planting a thigh between George’s legs so he couldn’t wiggle out.

“You ghost me after we practically admitted our love, and you have the audacity to call me a child?” His voice was harsh but there was no anger behind it. It was broken, shattered as if George had used it for target practice. “Looks like I dodged a fucking bullet!”

George shifted, still feeling the burn of shame across his face and the grip Dream had on his wrists. He was so confused, and they were so close he couldn’t help but remember the other night in the uber.

“You didn’t…” George’s voice changed, turning from a roar to a dull sob. “You didn’t unplug my speaker?” 

The rage immediately disappeared, ire flowing out of his face, quickly replaced with apprehension. He loosened his grip a little but maintained his hold.

“Why would I unplug your speaker?” He asked, sounding legitimately confused. It suddenly occurred to George that he hadn’t actually been given any reason to believe that Dream was the cause of the speaker malfunction.

“I...I thought,” George felt himself shrink back into the wall. “...you messed up my guitar because I left yesterday morning.”

Understanding dawned on both of them, thick as the covers George had curled up in.

“George, that wasn’t your fault.” Dream replied, moving his hand to wipe a thumb along George’s damp cheek. “I-I must have done something wrong, and made you feel uncomfortable, so you left.”

George let out a sound somewhere in the vast distance between a laugh and a sob, making eye contact with the floor.

“No, Dream,” He started, shaking his head slightly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just got scared that we wouldn’t be friends anymore and I couldn’t...I couldn’t lose our friendship.”

“You should’ve told me,” Dream sighed. “That night...it didn’t have to mean anything.” George’s face dropped and Dream quickly revised his sentence. “Not that it didn’t! If you wanted it to. But it doesn’t have to.”

George brought a hand up to cup Dream’s hand, enjoying its coolness against his warm cheek. 

“I want it to...but when I woke up hungover and in your bed I panicked.” Dream continued to stroke his face soothingly, the rough pads of his thumb scratching against George’s stubble.

“Not yet, then? I can wait.” Dream’s voice had dropped to just above a whisper, warm and comforting.

George suddenly realized that Dream was not looking at his eye, but his lips. A different kind of heat began to run through his veins, making him shiver. He pulled the blond in a little closer so their breaths mingled.

“I never said that,” George whispered and then pushed Dream into a kiss.

Both of them couldn’t believe that had only been two days. It was like breathing air after being pushed underwater.

“Are we going-” George croaked out in between desperate kisses. “Like...figure out what- what this is?” Dream’s hands dropped to his waist and pushed him into the brick wall.

“Later?” He replied quietly, just short of begging. George smiled into his lips and pushed his thin fingers into Dream’s blond waves. It was sweet and careless and so, so beautiful. Every time George’s eyes fluttered open he took the opportunity to appreciate how Dream’s eyes shined like emeralds in the evening night.

The past 24 hours bit at both of them, but for a moment in paradise they were willing to push the bitterness away, not leaving an inch between them that the pain could crawl into.

Neither of them even noticed when Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity pushed through the alley door, at least, not until Sapnap started clapping slowly.

Hands still braced on George’s waist, Dream pulled away and stared at them, causing all three of them to burst out laughing.

“Took you long enough!” Quackity howled, doubling over. 

“Oh, Dream~” Karl drawled, mocking George’s accent. “Kiss me, Dreamie!” Sapnap continued the bit and stood up on his tip-toes, dropping his voice.

“No Gogy,” He said, struggling not to laugh. “I don’t think I will.” Karl pulled Sap’s hands around his waist dramatically.

“Will you please reconsider?” He begged tearfully, leaning into Sapnap, making googly eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Dream called out, trying to hide his embarrassment. On impulse, George blushed and tucked his head into Dream’s chest, only making their friends cackle louder. “George has had a rough day.”

“I think it’s about to get rougher,” Quackity giggled, shoving Sapnap playfully. Karl was wheezing against the wall, face gone completely red.

“You guys aren’t mad?” George muttered into Dream’s chest. Dream stroked his hair softly, relishing in the intimacy of the moment.

“If messing up a show is what you two needed to do to make up, I’m sure we can live with it.” Sapnap grabbed Karl and ruffled his hair, leaving Quackity off to the side.

“Now that you’re all forgiven,” Dream whispered into George’s hair. “Can we please get out of here?” George nodded silently in reply and Dream began to pull him towards the parking lot. “I think we’re going home.”

“Use protection!” Quackity hooted as the two walked to Dream’s car. 

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispered now that they had a moment of peace. “I’m sorry everything with us has to be so hard.”

George finally moved his head from where it was buried in Dream’s shirt and looked up at him, chin resting on his chest. “You’re my best friend Dream. If we rush it I’m scared that I’ll lose you. After the last day...I don’t think I’d be able to live like that.”

“You wouldn’t have to,” Dream replied softly, brushing a hand down George’s back reassuringly. “There’s never a rush Georgie, take it at your own pace.”

George nodded slowly, eyebrow knit and gaze dropping to his feet. Dream traced small circles on his back, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath.

“Dream?”

“Yes, Georgie?”

He pursed his lips pulling his hands from Dream’s back to steady them, knitting them nervously. 

“I’m a little tired so can we not-”

Dream cut him off with a laugh, patting George on the head. “Sleep sounds great to me,” He said, pressing a kiss to George’s forehead. “As long as we can cuddle.”

“Well that was a given.” George rolled his eyes and both of them giggled while they ducked into the car. Quiet nights were good, and something they both desperately needed.

. . .

“See you tomorrow, babe,” Sapnap said, giving Karl a rib-crushing hug before leaving his apartment. Karl stood alone in the doorway, eyes following his lovely boyfriend as he disappeared down the stairs. 

He sighed happily. When had love started to come so easily? With Sapnap, it was perfectly uncomplicated , like taking a hot shower. So warm and comforting that you have to force yourself to pull away.

Karl dropped on the couch, eyes hung half-open. Getting yelled at by the MC when they told him they had to cancel their set had really taken a toll on him. Luckily, it was followed by a peaceful night of movies and cuddling. Quackity had disappeared shortly before Karl and Sapnap left the venue with saying a word.

It was late now, the hour hand just past 1am and Karl let himself sink into the soft couch, watching the colorful city lights through his window. He sometimes felt guilty that he was this happy but of course Sapnap assured him that he deserved it all. The silence of the apartment was comforting, if not a bit lonely.

Eventually, he forced himself off the couch to grab some water and get ready for bed. His brain was foggy with sleep and contentedness so when there came a loud knock on the door, he jumped.

“One second!” Karl called out, putting his glass of water down on the counter. He yawned as he walked to the door, aggressive knocking continuing. “What the honk, Sapnap? Did you forget something?” He asked before swinging the door open.

To his surprise, Sapnap wasn’t standing on the other side. Instead, a very disheveled looking Quackity glared at him through clouded eyes.

“Oh...hey Alex.” Karl chose to address him by his real name because of the seriousness in Alex’s expression. He looked...pissed. “Do you need something? It’s kinda late-”

“I’m sure you can handle it,” Quackity muttered, pushing past him into his apartment. Only as he walked past did Karl notice the strong smell of alcohol coming off of him.

“You good? Do you need a ride home?” Karl asked, closing the door as Quackity spun awkwardly around the apartment.

“Where’s Sapnap?” He asked, voice a little slurred. Karl stepped back a little towards the living room.

“You just missed him,” Karl replied, starting to get a bit anxious. Quackity groaned and rolled his eyes, leaning against a wall for support.

“Seems like I’ve always ‘just missed him’. Would it have killed him to wait for me?”

“I’m...not sure he knew you were coming.” Karl’s hands knit behind his back.The smell of alcohol and Quackity’s demeanor were becoming increasingly off-putting. “Do you wanna crash here tonight, buddy? You don’t look so good.” 

When he finally met his eyes, Alex’s gaze burned a hole through him.

“Stop being so goddamn nice all the time,” He said gruffly, picking at the cuffs of his sleeves. “It’s a lot harder to hate you when you’re acting like such a fucking angel.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Karl stammered, backing away a little more. He wished he could disappear into the wall. “Why would you want to hate me?”

Alex sneered and pulled an empty beer bottle out of his pocket. “Isn’t it obvious?” He smashed the glass against the wall, sending shards smashing to the floor. Karl flinched at the noise, eyes widening as Quackity began to walk toward him, clutching the broken bottle in one hand.

“You’re my competition, Karl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy. The story gets a little more intense from this point on so make sure you know your limits :]
> 
> Update schedule should continue to be every Sunday <3

**Author's Note:**

> Only a small percentage of my readers leaving kudos or follow, so if you enjoyed please hit that kudos button-  
> All jokes aside, thank you so much for reading, I truly hope you enjoyed it and are looking forward to the next chapter. I'm not entirely sure about my update schedule but you will definitely be getting a chapter at least once a week, as well as probably a one-shot.  
> As always, I post updates on my Twitter (@GMwastakenn)


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